


Clear Light Of Day

by accidental



Series: when you fall [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:04:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accidental/pseuds/accidental
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wondered what happened immediately after Night Shift?</p><p>Oh. Well, i went and wrote it anyway. </p><p>50% fluff and 50% smut, this carries on exactly where Night Shift finishes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clear Light Of Day

Gareth Hawke was kissing him.

They were standing at the side of the road, with the early traffic humming past and the sun coming up behind them over the park like a big red helium balloon, and Gareth Hawke was kissing him, as if he never wanted to stop.

 Andy felt light headed, almost dizzy with pleasure at the thought of it. He wanted to laugh out loud. He threaded his fingers through Gareth's dark hair, and a thrill went through him at the touch. Someone in one of the cars queuing at the red light wound down their window and wolf whistled loudly, and he felt Gareth's smile graze his lips.

 “I wanted to kiss you like that in the hospital,” Hawke confessed, with a little laugh. He looked up, his expression shy and suddenly vulnerable.

“Will you come home with me?” he asked.

Andrew hesitated, not quite trusting himself to speak, and Hawke laughed self-consciously. 

"I'm sorry," he said. “It‘s ok if you don‘t want to. It’s just… I’ve only just found you; I don’t want to let go of you yet.”

“No, I want to,” Andrew smiled.

He reached out and took Gareth’s hand, as the traffic roared past them, oblivious.  
  
***  


Gareth Hawke lived in the nice part of town, in one of the big three storey townhouses Andrew had always liked the look of, with cast iron railings at the front and Geraniums in pots lining the steep flight of steps up to the front door.  Andy assumed the building had been split into separate flats, and he was shocked when they entered the hallway and he realised the whole place belonged to Gareth.

 Inside, it was like something out of a magazine; fashionably decorated, tastefully lit, everything in exactly the right place. It looked as if a designer had picked everything out of a catalogue, right down to the occasional quirky little details that were apparently intended to give the place personality.  

 Andy didn’t know anyone who lived in such an expensive _grown up_ house.

“Nice place,” he said. He wasn't sure if he meant it or not. The fact that Gareth had money made him uncomfortable; he found it slightly intimidating. 

Gareth made a noncommittal sort of sound. He headed towards the kitchen, and Andrew followed him.

“Do you live here on your own?” he asked.

Gareth shook his head. “Spike’s not here at the moment. I persuaded him to go and stay with our friend Aveline for a couple of days. He’s a sweetheart really, but he can’t take no for an answer, and he can be a bit rough. I didn’t think I could handle him slobbering all over me with a broken rib.” He started filling the kettle from the tap. “Do you like dogs?”

“Sorry?” 

“Spike." Gareth said." He looks a bit scary, but he’s a big soft lump when you get to know him.”

“Oh...” Andy realised he’d been picturing Spike as some sort of big slobbery guy with a shaven head and tattoos. He laughed, half at himself for being such an idiot, and half with relief.  “Yeah, they're ok. I’m more of a cat person really.”

“I like cats, but sometimes I think they’re sort of shallow, you know? They don't love you unconditionally, the way dogs do. But I don‘t think anyone ever does.” Gareth took two mugs from one of the cupboards and placed them on the counter.  “Do you want tea, or coffee? Or I think there’s some whiskey somewhere...”

“Tea is good, thanks,"Andrew said. "It’s probably a bit early for the hard stuff.”

“Sorry." Hawke looked flustered. "I keep forgetting it‘s morning, it feels like it should still be yesterday. I’m just… I'm nervous, I guess.  I don’t usually bring people here. Men, I mean. Well, anyone really. I don’t…”

“Hey, it’s ok.” Andy wasn’t consciously aware of crossing the room, but somehow he was in Gareth’s arms again. He felt the brush of Hawke’s bandaged palm against his cheek, the faint, familiar, scent of antiseptic still clinging to it, and he wrapped his own fingers around Hawke's, holding them to his face.

“I can‘t stop looking at your lips...”

Gareth’s thumb gently grazed the nurse’s mouth, tracing the curve of his lips, and Andrew felt his breath catch. He parted his lips instinctively, trapping the thumb gently between his teeth. Gareth’s other hand came up to cup the back of his neck, fingers twining themselves in his hair, and Andrew felt the blood rush away from his head. He reacted without thinking, pressing himself against the other man’s body, overwhelmed by the need to be closer, to be touching him.

Gareth howled. “ Oh fuck, that hurts!” He turned away, leaning hard against the edge of the sink, clutching his ribs. The skin around his mouth was a sickly greenish colour.

 “Oh god Gareth, I’m so sorry…” Andrew was appalled. He'd let himself be carried away by the moment, and now Gareth was hurt and it was all his fault.

Gareth shook his head. “The painkillers are wearing off," he said. "You didn't know..."

“Didn’t they give you some more to take later?”

“I should have had them a couple of hours ago," Hawke admitted. "But I wanted to see you again, and I was scared I wouldn‘t stay awake...” He attempted a smile, but it flickered and died out far too quickly. He looked sick and shaky; a thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead.

 “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Andrew insisted. 

“That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”

“Well it’s only eight o’clock in the morning,” Andy reminded him brightly. “Give it time.” He hooked his arm beneath Gareth’s shoulders as they made their way slowly up the stairs, letting the bigger man lean into him for support.

Hawke’s bedroom was less tastefully bland than the rest of the house; the walls were painted a soft, buttery shade of yellow and lined with paintings, and there were books piled up on every available surface.  Andy helped Gareth down onto the bed. 

“Can you manage, or do you want some help taking your things off?” he asked.

“No, I’m ok… Thanks.”

Andrew watched as Hawke slowly unbuttoned his shirt, and shuffled out of his trousers. The man had an incredible body; sturdy and well built, with broad shoulders and muscular arms, and Andy couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to be beneath him, that solid weight pinning him to the bed. The breath caught in his throat at the thought of it.

“I’m sorry,” Gareth groaned. “Today isn‘t really working out the way I'd imagined it.”

“What exactly did you have planned?”

“ I don‘t know… loads of wild sex with the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met, maybe? Something like that." Gareth smiled diffidently.  “This must be the worst first date ever.”

Andrew didn’t think Hawke would believe him if he told him he’d never actually been on a date in his life. It was true though. It wasn't like that with Karl, and before Karl…  

_No. Before Karl doesn’t count,_ he told himself firmly.

 He shrugged, and managed a soft little laugh. “I’ve had worse,” he said.

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better.“ Gareth lay back, his face ashen against the creamy pillows. The skin around his eyes was drawn tight with pain and exhaustion. He reached for Andrew’s hand.

“I know I’ve got no right to ask, but I'd really like it if you stayed. You could sleep here..."

Andy didn’t know what to say. He felt off balance, caught up in something so far beyond his control that it should have been terrifying. Part of him _was_ terrified, but at the same time, he didn’t want it to end.

He nodded. “I’ll be right here,” he said.

Gareth lay back and closed his eyes, long dark lashes falling like shadows over his cheeks. He looked younger with his eyes shut, Andy thought. He was probably in his mid twenties, a couple of years younger than him. Too young to be rattling around on his own in a house like this.

He wondered again what the fuck he was doing here. He didn’t do morning afters - hit and run, that was his usual modus operandi; a fake name, a string of random digits thumbed into a phone.

_You run, and you keep on running and you don't look back; because the demons might be closer than you think…_

 So far, Gareth had only seen him through a cloud of adrenaline and painkillers and exhaustion, but at some point he’d realise his mistake. In the clear light of day, he’d see that Andy wasn‘t who he thought he was. It was probably safer to go now, before it mattered too much.

But he didn’t want to go - he’d never felt such an immediate connection to someone before. And anyway, it was all Gareth’s fault.  He had no right to do this to him;  no right to look at him like that, to smile at him, all open and sweet and honest, like the sun shining down between the trees, in the picture Varic had given him.

He found the bathroom, which was as predictably shiny and spotless as the rest of the house, and took his phone from his pocket to call Varic.  Even though he was no longer officially his therapist, Varic was still the first person Andy always turned to for advice, and he swore beneath his breath when the call went straight to voicemail.

“Hi Varic, “ Andy kept his voice deliberately low, but it still seemed to echo around the room. “Um, I met someone. He’s really nice, I think I like him, a lot. I’m…”

 He paused, not sure exactly what he’d wanted to say.

 _I’m scared,_ he thought.

_I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing._

“I'm all right. I’ll talk to you later, ok?” he said. He leaned back against the wall and looked around. Apparently, Hawke had a thing for mirrors. In fact, the whole room was like one big mirror, every surface shiny and reflective, and Andy found it disconcerting. It seemed somehow at odds with the impression he’d formed of the man so far. He was usually a pretty good judge of character; it was an instinct that had been sharpened the hard way, through necessity, but now he was starting to doubt himself.

Gareth hadn’t come across as vain. He’d seemed so straightforward and simple, but the truth was, Andy didn’t know anything about him. The house didn’t contain any clues to the man’s personality - it was more like a five star hotel than a home, and Andy thought there was something almost sad about it; as if Gareth moved through his perfect rooms like a ghost, not touching anything, barely leaving a mark.

His own reflection in the mirror looked pale and washed out; he was all eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick out at angles, and stared at himself, trying to imagine what Gareth might see when he looked at him.

When he got back to the bedroom, Hawke was fast asleep, breathing heavily, his face softer and more relaxed than Andy had seen it before. He remembered the feeling he’d had in the hospital earlier, the way he’d wanted to just lay down quietly next to him. He hadn’t slept beside anyone since Karl died; he'd found the thought of it strangely frightening, far too intimate, but suddenly he wanted it more than he could remember wanting anything in his life.

He lowered himself carefully onto the bed beside Hawke, resisting the urge  to reach out and touch him; to stroke his hair, or run his fingers gently over the five o’clock shadow that darkened the line of his jaw. He decided to try not to over analyse things or argue with his own gut feelings. Varic had told him he was an expert in self sabotage; that he sought out ways to make himself unhappy, because subconsciously he felt that was what he deserved.  
He didn't want to do that this time. He wanted this, whatever it was. He wanted to be happy, even if it was only for today.

 Overcome by exhaustion, Andy closed his eyes and let himself drift.

He woke a little while later, half way through one of his bad dreams. He didn’t remember any details; just the feeling of it, like a weight on his chest, panicky and suffocating.  A hoarse whimper escaped his lips as he struggled to break the surface, and beside him, Gareth stirred in his sleep and moved instinctively closer, wrapping an arm around Andy’s chest, pressing his lips to his hair.

When he woke again it was afternoon; thick golden sunlight filtering in through the blinds, dust motes dancing suspended in it. For a second, Andy wasn’t sure where he was. He started to sit up, and found himself looking into Gareth Hawke’s eyes.

Gareth's eyes were the colour of black coffee; so dark that there was barely any difference between the iris and the pupil. Andy saw himself reflected there, trapped by the warm intensity of the man’s gaze.

“You’re still here," he said. "I wasn‘t sure…”

Gareth‘s voice was uncertain, but he was smiling, and Andy felt himself smiling too, in response.

“I promised,” he said.

“I wasn’t sure if I dreamed that bit. I was a bit out of it, to be honest. Everything that happened since the club last night seems… unbelievable.” Gareth laughed. He reached out to touch Andy’s hair, winding a strand of it around his finger, and Andy found himself staring in fascination at his hands. They were big and capable, the fingers blunt, nails short and slightly uneven, as if he’d been biting them.  He suddenly wanted to feel those hands all over him; in his hair and in his mouth, grasping his hips roughly and stroking between his legs. He leaned closer, feeling the other man’s breath against his face like a caress, before their lips met.

They kissed, tenderly at first, lips soft and yielding; exploring each other with tongues that rapidly grew more urgent and demanding. Andy soon lost himself in the spiraling heat that spread through his whole body, leaving every inch of him raw and burning. He groaned, and pulled away, breathless, dazed by the intensity of his own need.

Gareth attempted to get up on one elbow to face him, then collapsed back against the sheets.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I want you so much, but everything hurts. I feel like i've been run over by a bus.”

“I warned you you might be a bit stiff," Andrew said.

“That too.” Gareth’s smile managed to be both suggestive and slightly awkward at the same time, and Andy raised an eyebrow.

"Mmm, maybe I should take a look at that” he suggested. "For medical reasons.” He slid down the bed and pulled the sheet back, wincing slightly at the sight of the dark bruises that stippled Hawke's stomach and chest.

Gareth’s thighs were pale and muscular, dusted with fine dark hair. The outline of his cock was clearly visible through the white cotton of his boxers, and there was an obvious damp patch where the head strained against the fabric. Andy’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of him. His felt himself swell, hot and heavy with need.

“Just lay back, ok? Don‘t try to move,” he said. 

Gareth groaned. “I want to touch you...” 

Andy shook his head. "Not yet. Let me… I want to suck you.” He lowered his head, and pressed his lips to the hard bulge of Gareth‘s cock through his underwear, tracing the shape of it through the fabric with his tongue.  He pressed the tip of his tongue to the wet fabric where the head was, feeling it twitch beneath his touch. He wanted to taste him. His whole body tingled and buzzed with it, want filling his head like a sort of white noise. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Gareth’s shorts and slowly rolled them down. His cock was breathtaking, thick and solid, a luscious bead of clear liquid hanging poised at the tip.

“Oh, look at you,” Andy breathed. “You’re beautiful.”  

He cupped a hand around the man’s balls and leaned in close, licking upwards along the shaft of his cock and making it glisten. When his tongue flicked around the head, Hawke gasped out loud, the muscles in his thighs tensing beneath Andy's fingers. Andy looked up.

“ Is that ok?” he asked.

“Fuck, Andy... of course it's ok. It’s...”

“Just checking.” Andy chuckled softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Gareth reached down to cup the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair gently.

“It’s lovely,” he said.  “You’re lovely.”

Andy grinned. “I think i can do better than that,” he promised.

He bent his head again, closing his lips around Gareth’s cock, relishing the way it filled his mouth; the hardness, the silk of the skin against his tongue. He stroked along the underside with his tongue, and then sucked gently, making Gareth moan loudly and clutch at the sheets. The sound made his own cock twitch and jerk in response. He was so hard it hurt.

He slowly moved down the shaft, taking in more until he could feel the head against the back of his throat. He hesitated, concentrating on getting his breathing under control. It wasn’t going to take much; he felt a faint vibration running beneath the skin against his tongue, felt Gareth's fingers loosen their grip on his hair and move down to his shoulders, gripping him firmly. Andy knew he was right on the edge. He tightened his grip around the base of Hawke’s cock and swallowed deeply, the muscles of his throat contracting, hot and wet. He heard Gareth call out his name, and pressed his face into the musky heat of the man's skin as his hips bucked, swallowing him hungrily.

Gareth lay back, his own heartbeat throbbing feverishly in his ears. His face was flushed, his dark eyes hazy with pleasure.

"That was... Andy, sweetheart, i can't even..."

Andy grinned, wiping the back of his wrist across his mouth shamelessly. He moved up the bed, straddling Hawke's and leaning in for a kiss, and Gareth tasted himself, alkaline and slightly bitter, on Andy’s tongue. He’d never tasted his own come on someone’s lips before. He didn't think he'd ever kissed anyone like this; open mouthed, ravenous, as if it was impossible to get enough of them.  

It was Andy who broke away first, rolling to one side for just long enough to unfasten his jeans and pull them down, and then they were kissing again, Gareth’s hands exploring the other man's slender body, stroking and caressing him until he felt himself tremble.

“Gareth…” Their lips were still pressed together. Scrape of stubble against his cheek. Teeth closing gently on his lower lip. Andy breathed into Hawke’s mouth, “Gareth, we have to be careful…”

Gareth groaned. “Sweetheart, there are so many things I want to do to you…”.

Andrew reached down to touch himself. “Tell me,” he whispered hoarsely. “Tell me what you want to do.”

Gareth hesitated, slightly embarrassed. He knew he wasn’t any good with words - most of the things that came out of his mouth ended up sounding pretty dumb. But he needed Andy to know how much he wanted him, and until he could show him properly, it was the only way he could do it.

  “ I’d start by kissing you,” he said.

“Kissing’s nice,” Andy murmured. “I like kissing." He was laying on his side now, facing Gareth, their lips still just inches away. Gareth's gaze fell to Andrew's hand, stroking himself slowly. He felt himself flush at the sight of it, a quiver of excitement going through him. 

"Where would you kiss me?”

Gareth thought of Andrew's mouth; those beautiful lips, reddened and still slightly swollen from sucking his cock. He didn't think he could ever tire of those lips, but there was so much more of Andy to explore and discover.

“Everywhere," he said. "I’d start at the back of your knee. The skin there is really sensitive - I want to kiss you there first, and then all the way up the back of your leg... I want to lick the little crease of skin where your thighs meet your arse,  the hollow of your back, all the way up your spine...” He felt his face growing hot as he spoke. He‘d never talked like this out loud to anyone before, and he couldn’t help wondering if the drugs from the night before were still in his system, making him less inhibited than usual. But he decided he liked it, this feeling of being somehow outside himself. For once, he wasn’t thinking of anyone or anything else; there was just him, and the beautiful man sprawled beside him in the bed, all honey and amber and warm copper gold. 

Nothing else had ever mattered as much as this.

He heard Andy's sharp little intake of breath; felt the shiver of excitement that ran through him. Andy moved closer, so that their bodies were touching, his cock hard and insistent against Gareth's hip. Beautiful. He reached down and closed his hand around it.

Andy moaned. His eyelids fluttered closed. “Don‘t stop talking…” he said. "I like your voice."

“ I’d kiss the back of your neck." Gareth’s voice was low, barely more than a whisper.  “Pressed up close behind you, so I can feel you pushing back against me. I want to fuck you." His hand moved on Andy’s cock, slowly at first, the pressure of his grip increasing as the rhythm slowly built. Andy moaned, and he felt his breath against his lips. " I want to fuck you slow and hard, on your back so I can see your face, kiss your beautiful lips. " His words were punctuated by kisses now, by the softness of his lips and the tip of his tongue against Andy’s throat, the gentle nip teeth against the pale skin. 

“I won’t stop kissing you. I’ll be right inside you, as deep as I can go, filling you up…”

“Oh god, I want that so much…”  Gareth felt the slide of skin against skin, as Andy moved his leg up across his thigh and rocked against him, desperate to be closer.  

“Want you too, more than anything.”  He felt himself already getting hard again. He nibbled at Andy’s lip, pulling at it gently, and Andy moaned and arched his back, pushing himself helplessly against the heat of the man's fingers.

 “I want to make you feel good.” Hawke said softly, against Andrew's lips. “I want to make you come."

"Yes..." Hawke's fingers tightened on his cock, stroking him faster now, almost roughly. It was too much. Andrew bit his lip.

"That‘s it darling... oh, that‘s lovely,” Gareth whispered into his hair as he cried out, losing control, clutching helplessly at Gareth as he spilled over his fingers.

Still breathing heavily, Andy opened his eyes. Gareth was smiling, his eyes sparkling with warmth. Andy laughed softly, suddenly ridiculously happy. He shifted, resting his head carefully in the crook of Gareth's shoulder, and they lay quietly for a moment, enjoying the feeling of closeness between them. The only thing that stopped it being perfect was the fact that he couldn't hold the other man tight.

"Are you ok?" he asked. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"I'm more than ok." Gareth kissed the top of Andy's head, blushing slightly as he remembered all the things he'd said he wanted to do to him. He'd meant every word of it.The past twenty four hours had felt surreal; he still thought he might be dreaming it, if it wasn't for the pain in his ribs and the ache in his stomach that suddenly reminded him he hadn't eaten since dinner last night. 

 “Are you hungry?” he asked Andy." I could make us some breakfast.”

“Technically, it’s almost dinner time. But breakfast sounds brilliant.” Andy sat up and planted a kiss on Hawke‘s nose. “I’ll make it though - I’ve decided I’m going to devote myself to waiting on you hand and foot for the next few days.”

“I don't need looking after,” Hawke protested. "I'm not an invalid."

“No, but you’re going to relax and take it easy, even if I have to tie you to the bed.”

Gareth chuckled.  “Do all your patients get this sort of aftercare?”

“Only the charming and devastatingly handsome ones.” Andy got out up of bed. He went over to the window and pulled up the blind, and late afternoon sunlight flooded the room, bathing it in a warm glow.

“Anyway,” he went on, “I’ve got purely selfish reasons for wanting you to get better quickly." He turned back to where Gareth sat propped against the pillows, the sunlight reflecting, clear and golden, in his eyes. 

“You still owe me a proper first date,” he reminded him.


End file.
